Katniss and Cato: Passion and the Aftermath
by RichardJ
Summary: Circumstances mean Katniss must form a temporary alliance with Cato during the 74th Hunger Games. She faces many dangers, not least of which is Cato's reaction when most of Katniss's clothes go astray. Meanwhile Foxface has a few surprises of her own. And when it is all over there are far reaching consequences. Two short stories which can be read alone or in sequence.
1. 1:1 A bad day to lose your trousers

Suzanne Collins is acknowledged as the creator of the Hunger Games characters and story.

Part 1 – The Passion

1:1 - A bad day to lose your trousers.

I must get away … Back to Peeta … Quickly … Cato can't be far away … Oh no! The table is empty! Where's my bag from the Gamemakers?

My mind is working fine, but the rest of me is responding sluggishly. The gash on my forehead from Clove's knife is bleeding profusely. That, coupled with the accumulated injuries I acquired earlier in the Hunger Games, is making me dizzy and disoriented. I must find my bag. This excursion to the Cornucopia will have been a waste of time if I don't return to our cave with the medication Peeta desperately needs.

My mind keeps replaying the last ten minutes over and over again. Clove caught me as I tried to retrieve my bag from the table. She overpowered me and had me at her mercy. I was destined to suffer a slow agonising death under her blade. But she was careless and didn't see Thresh until too late. In less than a minute Thresh had killed Clove and was gone. Although I lay helpless on the ground, he spared my life in full and final repayment for my efforts to help Rue. Well intended efforts on my part, but ultimately futile. Rue died a violent death. A failure on my part which I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. A life which isn't going to last very much longer unless I get away. Now!

I try to stand but with only one good ear I can't keep my balance. I stumble and crawl towards the table. There's no sign of my bag. Nor is there one for Cato. Did Thresh take all three bags when he escaped? … Perhaps. I would have if I were in his position.

Now I've failed Peeta as well as Rue. Peeta will die from his injuries without the medication that must surely have been in that bag. A bag that may as well be sat in the Capitol as in this arena for all the good it will do Peeta and I. I clear the blood away from my eyes so I can check around me. There's still no sign of Cato … What's keeping him? I try to stand again. Big mistake. I lose my balance and crack my head on the table as I fall. Then nothing.

"Here … drink this," comes a voice. Male … but not Peeta's voice. A vaguely familiar voice. I chance opening my eyes … and promptly close them again. Cato! Please, please let this be a bad dream. I open my eyes again, only to confirm this isn't a bad dream … it's a bad reality. I carefully sit up and look around. I'm sat in a makeshift camp near the lake. How I arrived here and why I'm still alive are mysteries for the moment. I'm so thirsty that I take the offered cup from Cato's outstretched arm and drain it before it dawns on me that the contents might be drugged. Too late to worry about that now. Cato has had ample opportunity to kill me while I've been out if he wanted me dead.

I look at Cato, trying to understand what is going on. He is only half watching me … his attention is on the area surrounding us. He must know Peeta is badly injured, so only Thresh and Foxface are potential threats. Of the two, Thresh is by far the more deadly threat. Particularly as he now has three of the four bags provided by the Gamemakers. Each bag labelled with our District number and supposedly contained something each surviving tribute needs. Only Foxface escaped with her bag. How I wish I had thought of her plan to retrieve her bag … so much better than mine.

I feel my head and discover my wound has been cleaned and a dressing placed over the cut. Now I'm even more confused. Only a few days ago Cato would have killed me in an instance. Instead he has carried me to this camp and tended to my head wound.

"What's going on?" I ask, making a move to stand only to realise my ankles are tied together and tethered to a tree. Nothing I couldn't free myself from given time, but not with Cato closely guarding me.

"Be quiet and stay still," snaps Cato in a tone more in character with the Cato I've met before.

I stay still and scan my surroundings for my weapons. My bow and quiver of arrows are now in Cato's possession. The knife I was carrying is nowhere to be seen. Suddenly Cato sees or hears something off to his right. He notches an arrow and takes aim in the direction of a small thicket. A rustling sound confirms the presence of something or someone. We both wait quietly. I know whatever has alerted Cato isn't any form of rescue for me. Cato suddenly lets fly with an arrow in the direction of the thicket. He quickly discards the bow and quiver and draws his sword. He charges the thicket with all the grace of an enraged bull.

The second he charges I start work on loosening my bonds. His knot-work is better than I anticipated and it takes precious minutes to free myself. Eventually I'm free, and I quickly retrieve my bow and quiver. I look towards the thicket but I can't see or hear anything. Too late I realise Cato isn't there … he's behind me. I curse my damaged hearing. I'm sure I would have heard him otherwise. Now what?

"Place the bow and arrows on the ground in front of you and turn around slowly," says Cato.

I could risk notching an arrow and trying to kill him, but I can't be sure how close he is, or whether he has his sword drawn. The fact that he hasn't simply run me through with his sword suggests he still doesn't want to kill me … at least not at this moment. That could give me an extra second or two to act. But curiosity is getting the better of me. Why is he doing this? Is this just an elaborate cat-and-mouse game? A chance to torture me along the lines Clove had in mind. Or is there some deeper motive? I make my decision. I place the bow and quiver on the ground and turn to face him. A let out a sigh of relief when I realise I've made the right choice. He's very close and his sword is drawn ready to kill me had I shown any resistance.

"What are you up to, Cato? Why don't you kill me here and now?" I ask. "You and I know there is no way both of us are going to be allowed to walk from this arena alive."

"I know. But it is also possible neither of us will leave this arena alive. I prefer to improve my odds by offering you a temporary alliance. We dispose of the others together and then, when there is just the two of us remaining, we can fight it out."

I hadn't credited Cato with such an ability to think strategically. Of course the odds will still be stacked heavily in his favour. As soon as he thinks I'm of no further use I can expect a sword in my back. I can't see what I may gain from such an alliance. I'm dead whatever happens. Unless …

"You are thinking 'Can I trust him? Will he kill me the moment I'm of no further use?' aren't you?", says Cato, almost reading my mind.

"Something along those lines … yes," I reply.

"Well, I could say 'on my word of honour' or something similar, but it would be a meaningless promise. Consider your options … I kill you now … or you survive for now and take your chances. That's as good as it gets. Make your choice," he says.

Unfortunately he is right. If I die now then Peeta is as good as dead … not that his odds are looking good either way. But the people back in District 12 would expect me to make every effort to save him.

"Alright, I agree … on condition I keep my bow and arrows," I say.

"Yeah, sure. You're not going to be much help without them. Now remove your trousers."

"What?!"


	2. 1:2 A good day for skinny dipping

1:2 – A good day for skinny dipping.

"I said 'remove your trousers'. Is that too complicated an order?" replies Cato.

"Why?" I ask, fearful of his intentions and only too well aware I'm at his mercy, but determined to keep my dignity.

"An interesting response. Not 'no' or 'get lost Cato' but a reply that suggests you may well agree to my demand given the right motivation," he chuckles. "We shall need to work on developing that motivation."

Is he flirting with me? Incredible! Here we are in the middle of an arena where we must fight to the death, and Cato's got his brains between his legs.

"Don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen," I reply, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed by my earlier reply which has probably been broadcast to all of Panem. When I said it I did indeed contemplate complying with his demand, as disgusting as it was. What's wrong with me. Suddenly I've turned into the helpless female type I so despise. Pull yourself together Katniss.

I bend down and retrieve my bow and arrows. Cato watches me but doesn't show any reaction to my movements. Unfortunately he seems to know I'm not the sort of person to kill someone in cold blood. If my life is threatened I will defend myself, but I can't commit murder.

"Alright, now what?" I ask. "What was in the thicket just now?"

"An animal of some sort, I think. Whatever it was escaped. Our first task is to find the boy from Eleven. He's got both our bags from the Gamemakers, which makes him doubly dangerous."

"Thresh? He spared my life … I don't know if … no, no … you are right. He is our most dangerous opponent," I say, silently adding 'apart from you Cato'. "Did you retrieve the arrow you shot into the thicket?"

"No … why?"

"Because we don't have many left. That arrow may make the difference. I'll go and retrieve it," I say.

"We'll go and retrieve it together, Katniss. It would be far too easy for you to get lost without me by your side."

"Oh Cato! Anyone would think you don't trust me," I say in a mocking tone. In reality I know I must retrieve my bag from Thresh if Peeta is to stand any chance of survival. This devil's alliance between Cato and I may yet work to my advantage.

We enter the thicket and search for the arrow. Cato has only a vague of idea of where the arrow went and I was too low down to see. There's no sign of the arrow even though the thicket isn't that dense. Suddenly I spot a trail of blood on the ground. Fresh blood.

"Did you see what you fired at, Cato?" I ask.

"No. There was something moving in these bushes, but I didn't get a clear look. It was larger than a bird, though. When I made it here there was no sign of whatever it was."

"Well, you may have hit it. See … a trail of blood. Let's follow it. It could be human … or it could be lunch."

The trail is easy to follow but with Cato crashing about behind me, any hope of surprising our prey is lost. Hopefully it isn't going to be an enraged Thresh we encounter.

The injury can't be too severe as only small intermittent amounts of blood mark the trail. After a minute we reach softer ground and I see footprints. Cato sees me studying the prints.

"Well?" he asks.

"Human … male," I reply.

I know Peeta is in no condition to leave our cave so it must be Thresh. Even though Cato knows he injured Peeta I don't want him to know how severely. If Cato believes Peeta may out and about then it can only work to my advantage.

Cato draws his sword and I notch an arrow. This is ideal territory for an ambush. Only who is going to ambush whom. If I didn't need to urgently retrieve the Gamemakers' bag I would move far away from here and hide. But that option is denied me.

"Right. You follow his trail and I'll cover your back," says Cato.

"I can't track him with you blundering about behind me," I say. "He'll hear you long before we get close enough to see him. Either we split up or we must lure him towards us."

"Lure him? How?" replies Cato selecting the option I thought he would chose.

"One of us acts as bait while the other hides in ambush. It may be better if we do that by the lake. There'll be less chance of him sneaking up on us that way."

"And what if it's lover-boy who falls into our trap? You change sides in an instance and I'm the one in trouble. I agree with your plan on condition you are the bait."

"OK," I reply. It is my preference as well even though I'm putting my life in danger. I'm still not comfortable about killing Thresh after he spared me. Even acting as bait to lure him into a trap seems like a betrayal."

We find a suitable spot near the lake and light a fire. I hand Cato my bow and arrows and he gives me one of Clove's knives in exchange. Hopefully Thresh will notice the smoke from our fire but is still to far away to observe our actions.

"Where do you want me to be?" I ask Cato.

"You need to be clear of my line of fire. The lake. That's the best option. It's a nice day for a swim. Assuming you can swim?"

"I can swim. But not for long. My clothes will become waterlogged after about ten minutes," I say, recalling the time I tried swimming in the lake at home wearing my hunting clothes. The weight of my sodden clothes nearly dragged me under.

Cato doesn't reply but I know what is going through his mind. Well he can forget it. Katniss skinny dipping isn't on the menu. There must be another option. But what? We've no idea how long it will be before Thresh arrives … if at all.

In the end I find a bush near the lake to go behind and peel off my clothes. I tuck my knife into my underpants and slide into the water clear of Cato's line of sight … although probably in clear view of Panem. I swim round to where Cato and anyone in the clearing nearby can see me. The water is pleasantly cool and the chance to clean myself thoroughly for the first time in days is a blessing. I swim back and forth while keeping an eye open for any activity on the shore.

I swim for about half an hour, by which time I'm starting to get tired. I tread water and float for a while to regain my strength. Just as I'm beginning to think our plan isn't going to work I see Thresh. I'm in deep deep trouble.


	3. 1:3 Nothing but a pair of underpants

1:3 – Nothing but a flimsy pair of underpants

My damaged hearing has let me down again. Thresh is bearing down on me though the water. He is less than fifty metres away. His powerful strokes are making short work of the distance between us. If Cato's arrow injured him he shows no sign of any ill effects. I've no chance of reaching Cato before Thresh cuts me off. He must have suspected a trap and entered the water further along the shore. Has Cato seen him? Will he swim to my rescue if I head towards the shore? … Can he swim?

There's no sign of movement from where Cato is hiding so I discard that option. The far side of the lake is just visible, but I've never swum across such a large expanse of water. Besides, Thresh is clearly the more powerful swimmer and would catch me before I reached halfway. Fighting him is ludicrous so I go for my best remaining choice. I swim for the shore at an angle that hopefully means I can reach the shore ahead of Thresh. I can only hope Cato realises what is happening and runs to meet me.

With the adrenalin that true fear generates, I strike out for the shore. I keep focussed on my intended landing point. I dare not lose time by veering off course. I catch the occasional glimpse of Thresh behind me. The gap is closing but I think I've enough lead to reach the shore ahead of him. A minute or so later I start to tire and begin to doubt I can make the shore in time. The current is pushing me away from the shore and I lack the energy to make good progress against it. I debate dropping my knife in the hope I gain an extra ounce of speed, but I know I may need it at any moment.

The chase seems to last for an eternity but can't have been more than three minutes. I'm within ten metres of the shore when a hand grabs my leg. I spin round and lash out with my foot. I temporarily dislodge Thresh's grip but before I can resume swimming he gains a firm grip on my ankle. I can't shake myself free. The water is still deep here even though we are close to the shore. I do the only thing I can think of … I take a deep breath and dive. Thresh must either let go or follow me down. He opts for the latter. Now it is a question of who can hold their breath the longest.

I quickly realise that as proficient as Thresh is above the surface, he has no experience at swimming under water. For once I hold the advantage. I draw my knife and stab at the arm holding my ankle. It's only a glancing blow but its enough to make him let go of my ankle. Once free I swim clear of Thresh and try to make as much distance as possible before I need to surface. When I break surface I quickly scan the surrounding water. I'm now about twenty metres from the shore where I can see Thresh scrambling out of the water. He is favouring the arm I struck but it doesn't seem to be slowing him down. If Cato appeared now he would have a huge advantage over Thresh, who has discarded all his weapons as well as his clothes when he entered the water. But Cato is nowhere to be seen. So much for our alliance.

I watch Thresh while I regain my breath. He doesn't seem to be concerned about me. He must know Cato is nearby and is now making haste back to wherever he left his things. Once I'm satisfied he has gone I swim for shore, not far from where Thresh landed. As soon as I'm ashore I move into the nearby trees and hide. My immediate problem is I'm wet, cold and naked … well, apart from a pair of sodden underpants. Fortunately it is a mild day and the gentle breeze should dry me fairly quickly. Then perhaps I'll feel warmer.

I must decide what to do next. Retrieving my clothes means moving close to where Cato and Thresh should be. If things weren't so deadly I'd find Cato and give him a piece of my mind. He was supposed to be watching out for me. He missed a golden opportunity to kill Thresh.

The sound of a cannon echoes through the arena. A tribute has died! But who? Apart from me there are only four tributes left. Is it Peeta finally succumbing to his wounds? … Or has Cato ambushed and killed Thresh? … Or has Thresh turned the tables on Cato? … And what of Foxface? I've no idea about her situation.

I need to find out about Peeta. Our cave is about half an hour's walk from here. Do I risk retrieving my clothes first? Modesty says I should, but common sense says it is too risky without knowing what has happened to Thresh and Cato. I swallow my pride, cross my arms over my chest, and head off in the direction of our cave.

I take a slight detour to make sure I'm not being followed. Some sixth sense tells me I'm being watched … and I don't mean by all the television viewers. I reach the cave and whisper Peeta's name. There's no reply. Dread fills my gut when I realise it could mean the cannon was for Peeta. I carefully enter the cave to find Peeta lying on the floor where I left him. He's unconscious but still alive. If anything he looks slightly better than when I left him less than twelve hours ago.

Suddenly I realise someone else has been here. Things have been moved and the makeshift bandage on Peeta's wound has been changed. Somehow I doubt Peeta has done this himself. I check the area around his wound. When I left him his leg was starting to swell from blood poisoning. Now it is still red and swollen but is clearly healing. Did Haymitch manage to send a parachute with the medication Peeta needs? But who administered the salve?

I'm musing over these questions when I hear the sound of falling stones. I quickly look round and see a red haired girl at the entrance to the cave. Foxface! We both freeze in surprise.

"Don't kill me," she says. "I've been taking care of Peeta while you've been making out with Cato. You owe me one chance."

"OK. I owe you, so we shall call a truce for now. But I don't understand. How have you been able to treat Peeta? … And I haven't been making out with Cato!"

"Really? He's quite nice looking and you seemed pretty pally when I saw you. And do you normally walk around dressed in nothing but a flimsy pair of underpants?"

Now I'm blushing and feeling embarrassed. I not certain whether it is my nakedness or the fact Finch is closer to the truth than I care to admit. I have experienced those strange feelings I sometimes get when I'm near a boy when I was near Cato. I reach for the plastic sheet in my backpack and wrap it round me. Foxface senses my awkwardness and refrains from further jibes.

"Thresh is dead. I was watching you by the lake. I saw Cato ambush Thresh as he was dressing after your little swim in the lake. I followed you for a while, but lost sight of you when you didn't follow the path here. I should have known you were too good a hunter to do the obvious."

"But what about Peeta's wound?"

"A salve courtesy of the Gamemakers. I managed to relieve Thresh of his booty while he was busy tracking you and Cato."

"But why are you doing this? Healing Peeta gains you nothing."

"I've never killed anyone and I refuse to start now. Unless you all conveniently kill each other off, I don't expect to leave this arena alive. So I intend to help keep the Games going as long as possible. Which means keeping Peeta alive. Besides, if the Games run into a third week, the television companies will demand huge penalty fees from the Gamemakers because of all the programme rescheduling they will need to do. The thought of bankrupting the Gamemakers pleases me."

"Sshh! Those sorts of ideas will earn you a quick death. The Gamemakers aren't going to sit idly by while you carry out your plan. They can control the environment or introduce dangerous predators into the arena. I'm sure they will do everything in their power to make the Games finish on time."

"They can't hear us in this cave. I muffled the microphones on the cameras in here. The lighting is so poor in here they aren't likely to see us very clearly either."

"Clever. But how do you know you found all the cameras. Or that they haven't sent in a technician to fix the problem while you've been out."

"The cameras are all numbered in a sequence and I've accounted for all the nearby ones. The Gamemakers won't have realised they have a sound problem until just now. I intended to bring Peeta in on my scheme as soon as he regained consciousness and obviously didn't want the Gamemakers to overhear. But your help as well will improve the odds of success. We must leave the Gamemakers guessing as long as possible or they'll act sooner."

"And what part do you see me playing in your scheme?" I ask.

"Keep Cato occupied and away from us."

"And how am I to do that? As you pointed out, I'm wearing next to nothing. I need to retrieve my clothes and that is going to be a problem."

"If you think about it you can solve both problems at the same time. Do you want in on my plan?"

"Yes," I reply after a few moments thought. It would be safer staying here but the Gamemakers will not allow the three of us to simply hide from Cato. I'd rather face Cato on my own terms than those of the Gamemakers. "Give Peeta my reg- … er … love when he wakes."


	4. 1:4 Improper thoughts

1:4 – Improper thoughts.

I set out to rejoin Cato, thankful for Peeta's improving health, and pleased at the prospect of confounding the Gamemakers' arrangements. I had thought of converting my plastic sheet into a makeshift dress, but Cato would want to know where I found it. He mustn't know I returned to Peeta, nor of my meeting with Finch … Foxface's real name. I'm risking my life returning to Cato now. He may think I've outlived my usefulness now that Thresh is dead.

As I near the lake I take extra care. There is no sign of Cato where he was hiding earlier. I move to the bushes where I left my clothes. Gone! I search around for any sign of where they went, but all I find is my mockingjay pin lying in the grass. It must have fallen from my jacket when I caught my jacket in the bush. I pin it onto my underwear before moving to where Thresh must have entered the water. Again, nothing. I look for a trail to follow. Where would Cato go now Thresh is dead?

There's been too much movement to and fro to pick up Cato's trail from here. It occurs to me that he will either search for me or for the Gamemakers' bags. But which? I check the Cornucopia, but he's not there. I'm not willing to risk calling out his name. That could be an invitation for an arrow in the back. Cato is well armed while I only have a small knife. I need to find him before he finds me.

I'm starting to get cold. The pleasant sunny morning is turning into a cool overcast afternoon. Storm clouds are forming and heavy rain is coming. I've long since given up trying to preserve my modesty. I'm not the first Hunger Games tribute to lose all or part of their clothing in the arena and nudity isn't frowned on. Although I'm not comfortable with the thought of prancing around almost naked in front of the entire population of Panem, what options do I have?

I find a tall tree not far from the Cornucopia and the shattered remains of the supplies I blew up a few days ago. I climb the tree to get a better view of the area. It's a difficult climb and I gain more than a few cuts and scratches. But the view is worth the effort. I slowly check each direction for signs of Cato. I'm rewarded after ten minutes when I spot a flock of birds taking flight in alarm about half a kilometre away. I watch the area for a while and finally glimpse something larger moving about. I've not seen any animal bigger than a rabbit in the arena, so I'm fairly sure the cause is human. Since Peeta was still unconscious an hour ago it means the person can only be Cato or Finch. I'm fairly sure Finch wouldn't be so clumsy as to alarm the birds, so it seems likely it is Cato.

I watch for a while and catch a few more glimpses of movement. Finally I can identify the person as Cato. His blond hair is unmistakeable. He's heading in this general direction and from the way he is swinging his sword at defenceless bushes, he doesn't seem to be in a good mood. I think I'll stay here for now until he calms down.

He passes beneath my tree without looking up. He ignores the Cornucopia and makes for the lake. He's still in sight when the rain starts. He decides to return to the Cornucopia for shelter. Not that it offers much. I'm in no better position up here. The foliage and branches above protect me to some extent but not against a deluge. A distant sound of thunder makes my mind up for me. I decide to scramble down. This tree could easily be struck by lightning. Fortunately Cato cannot see me from the mouth of the Cornucopia.

By the time I reach the ground the rain is becoming heavy and the thunder more frequent. I'm still uncertain about approaching Cato, so I keep to the bushes around the edge of the clearing surrounding the Cornucopia. I've not gone far when I see a small wooden crate in the bushes. It must have been thrown there in the explosion and escaped notice until now. The crate is broken but the some of the contents are still intact. I manage to salvage ten cans of soup. Then I see I'm in luck; the crate is lined with a white gauzy material. By cutting the lining carefully I make a strip long enough to wrap around my chest. I feel so much better now I've restored some degree of decency.

The rain is getting heavier by the minute and my new top clings to me in a way that leaves little to the imagination. I gather as many of the cans as I can carry and head for the mouth of the Cornucopia. I'm virtually on top of Cato before we see each other in the gloom.

"I've brought lunch," I say, hoping to diffuse the tension before Cato reaches for his sword.

My offer of food and my skimpy attire seems to do the trick. Cato doesn't reply but visibly relaxes. The wind is blowing the rain into the mouth of the Cornucopia, so only a small strip near the back wall is out of the rain. Cato may not be about to kill me, but he isn't inviting me into the dry either.

"May I come in?" I ask when it is clear he isn't going to invite me into his shelter.

"Some explanations first," he replies. "Firstly, where have you been for the last hour or so? Where did you get this food? And why have you returned here rather than head off to join lover-boy?"

"Where have you been, is a more appropriate question? I thought you and I were allies. You were supposed to be watching out for Thresh. Instead he nearly kills me and you are nowhere to be seen," I snap. "I had to swim far along the lake to find a safe landing place where I could be sure I was clear of Thresh. … The food was in a broken crate near the remains of the supplies."

"Hmmph. Yes, alright … I suppose you have a point. I didn't see Thresh enter the water. By the time I did he was too far out for me to hit him with an arrow. I followed the shoreline in the direction you were going but the swampy ground made it impossible for me to reach you. By the time I picked up Thresh's trail he had dumped your clothes in the lake and was nearly back to his own clothes. I managed to catch him by surprise. He won't be troubling us any further. Then I went looking for you and the bags Thresh had taken, but found neither. … Alright, you can come in out of the rain, but leave the knife where I can see it. I see you've found the motivation to remove your trousers."

Not exactly the warmest of welcomes, but at least he hasn't tried to kill me … yet. We settle down and open a can of soup. This is my first meal today and I enjoy every scrap despite the soup being cold. The dry space in the Cornucopia is very small and I have to practically sit in Cato's lap. Not that he seems to mind, and his proximity protects me from the chill wind.

Then he does something I never thought him capable of doing. He removes his shirt and puts it around my shoulders. I feel a lot warmer although his bare chest plays havoc with my emotions. Finch is right … he is good looking and very fit. I battle with the improper thoughts running through my mind. I even toy with the idea of offering to share his shirt, but that would mean pressing close and I don't know if I can trust him … or me … not to let things get out of hand.

I relent in the end and we sit huddled together for warmth. I know sitting this close to him is dangerous. If he chose, he could kill me with his bare hands before I could defend myself. The danger of the situation somehow makes it all the more enticing. I simply sit quietly with his arm around my shoulder thinking about … er … yes, well, never mind what I'm thinking about.

"Do you think the Gamemakers and the viewers will approve of us sitting like this," I say after a while.

"The Gamemakers won't approve … they want us to kill each other, not be friends. The viewers will be more tolerant. They have a soft spot for a little romance. Have you and lover-boy been keeping them happy in that department?"

"Not really. If you recall, Peeta was part of your gang earlier on in the Games. Something I've not forgiven him for yet."

"A snake in the grass he turned out to be … for us both. I thought I fatally injured him when he helped you to escape the tracker-jackers, but clearly he wasn't hurt as bad as I believed. Do you know where he is hiding now?"

"I'm not leading you to him, if that's what you are asking."

"So you intend to betray me when the time comes," he says, placing his hand around my throat.


	5. 1:5 A secret promise to Cato

1:5 – A secret promise to Cato

Cato holds my throat hard enough to cause me alarm, but not sufficient to cut off my ability to breath. When I recover from my initial shock I realise he is not trying to kill me, but merely giving a demonstration of male dominance … and his unpredictable mood. He releases me when I don't struggle or cry out. Then he looks away, as though embarrassed by his actions. … Or perhaps he is simply brooding over his failure to intimidate me.

"I had best leave so we can resume being enemies," I say.

"Opponents … not enemies," he says. "I don't regard you as an enemy … in fact, I like you. I wish there was a way out of this arena for both of us. Unfortunately you are probably right about breaking our alliance, although there's no need to leave until the weather eases up. The Gamemakers will have created this weather to allow time for the serious gamblers to place their final bets on their choice of winner. They want to keep us from killing each other while the betting is still in progress. I suspect you and I being here together makes the betting difficult."

"I can see that. They will wonder whether one of us will kill the other while we are locked in each others arms," I say in a light tone with a dramatic flourish, knowing we aren't the only two tributes together at the moment.

"Something like that," he says. His earlier anger has vanished. "We could be in for a long wait."

I'm grateful when Cato lapses into silence. I'm only marginally in control of my emotions. I knew it was dangerous coming here, but the risk of Cato killing me is not the only danger I am facing. The two of us sitting here in a state of undress is stirring other feelings inside me. Wicked feelings. Feelings good girls shouldn't have.

I thought Haymitch had been teasing me when he said I should regard Peeta as a bad boy. Then perhaps I would fall for him in the way he has obviously fallen for me. Is that why I'm experiencing such strong feelings with Cato. He's definitely a very bad boy in my books.

The rain shows no sign of easing and the dry patch in the Cornucopia is getting smaller as the puddles invade our shelter. I move closer to Cato when the wind changes direction and a previously dry area to my right becomes exposed to the elements. Cato doesn't complain and accommodates my slight change in position. Without consciously doing so, I place my head is on his shoulder. He responds by placing his right arm around my shoulder and caresses the top of my right arm. My emotions go into overdrive. Before long we share our first kiss and from there one thing leads to another.

We only just manage to stop short of going the whole way. I only hope Cato is right when he says the heavy rain and our location behind the overturned table will hide our passion from being viewed on television. But then Cato is a bad boy by my own definition, and bad boys will say anything to get their own way with a girl.

My emotions are still in turmoil. I feel different. Should I feel embarrassed or ashamed at what just occurred? Somehow Cato satisfied a need in me I didn't know existed. Is it because of the dangers of the arena that somehow I feel so much more alive?

Thankfully Cato has given me his shirt to wear. My makeshift top didn't survive our passion.

"Why are you looking so worried?" asks Cato. "We're not the first tributes to make the most of each other's company in the arena. The Gamemakers may expect us to hate each other, but we're still human. We can't be made to love or hate someone on demand."

He's right, but most of those previous instances during the games are disgusting. Cases where one tribute satisfies their lust over a vanquished opponent. There was a girl tribute in last year's games who had a nasty urge to play with her helpless opponents before killing them. But there are rare precedents for what just occurred between Cato and I. None of those ended happily though. Usually both tributes died shortly afterwards.

But that isn't what is worrying me. Even if the viewers couldn't see Cato and I in the throws of passion, it wouldn't need much imagination to guess what was going on. That will have consequences after all this is over … assuming I leave this arena alive.

"I know. You're worried about betraying lover-boy," he says when I don't respond to his question.

"He's not 'lover-boy'. He has a name … Peeta. And while he proclaimed his affection for me to all of Panem, I'm still making my mind up how I feel about him," I reply, only now thinking about Peeta's reaction if he hears of Cato and my moment of passion.

"You'll need to make your mind up quickly. Don't expect the Gamemakers to stick to their changed rules allowing two victors from the same District. It would be typical of them to have you and lover-b... Peeta as the last two left, only to be told the rules are changed again and only one of you may leave the arena alive," he whispers into my ear so the Gamemakers can't overhear.

That's a twist I hadn't thought about. Cato is right; that would be typical of the Gamemakers' tactics. I turn towards Cato again and wrap my arms around his shoulders as though I want to resume our earlier passion. In reality I'm whispering Finch's plan to Cato. It's a huge risk. I'm gambling Cato is trustworthy enough not to betray the plan to the Gamemakers and virtually guarantee he is the victor. If the Gamemakers hear of Finch's plan then she and I can expect to suffer a fatal accident, and Peeta is in no condition to face Cato. Assuming Cato doesn't oblige the Gamemakers by killing us all first.

"I agree … on one condition," he whispers after a few moments thought. I listen to his condition and why he is imposing it. If I don't agree then I know he will almost certainly betray us. If I accept his condition then a whole new set of responsibilities are placed on my shoulders. It's little more than blackmail, but I gave him the opportunity. After a few moments thought I come to terms with what he is asking and find I can go along with his condition. I only hope Finch and Peeta never find out what I'm about to promise Cato.

"Alright. We have a deal," I reply.

The rain finally eases up towards the evening of the next day. By early morning it has stopped entirely and the temperature has risen significantly. The cloudless sky promises a scorching hot day.

I detail a plan of action to Cato and carry out my suggested departure. To the Gamemakers and viewers it must appear that Cato and I have broken our alliance and I'm being given a period of grace to get far enough away. I offer to return his shirt, but he is gentleman enough to let me keep it, even though he has no replacement.

I make my way back to Finch and Peeta to see how they have fared during the storm. I grab the last of the unopened tins of soup from the crate I found in the bushes in case they need food. If Finch is right, the Gamemakers will be planning to finish these Games within the next 24 to 36 hours. That would both fit their contracted timetable with the television companies and ensure all the victory celebrations can occur on time. If the four of us can delay the end by another couple of days … or longer if possible … we will have struck a blow against the Gamemakers and their government overlords on behalf of all the tributes.

I approach the cave where Peeta and Finch are hiding. I give the prearranged signal but there is no response. I become very cautious.


	6. 1:6 Careless or betrayed?

1:6 – Were we careless or betrayed?

I repeat the signal a minute later, but there is still no reply. They must be alive or I would have heard the cannon announcing each tribute's death. That is unless I was so enraptured by Cato's attentions that I failed to notice the cannon. But surely Cato would have told me if he had heard a cannon? Or was he so distracted by my responses to his advances that he too wasn't paying attention to what was happening around us.

I crawl nearer so I can take a look inside the cave. With only four of us left alive it isn't an ambush by another tribute I fear. Rather, the danger could be a dangerous animal recently introduced into the arena by the Gamemakers.

I reach a position close enough to see inside. Peeta's jacket and my bag are where they were placed when I left, but Peeta is not in sight. Nor is Finch. Her empty bag is folded as a pillow next to where Peeta was lying when I left them. I move inside the cave. There are signs of recent habitation but no indication of what has happened to either of them. We didn't have much in the way of weapons and equipment, but what we had are gone. There is nothing to suggest an attack or unplanned exit, although I notice the microphones on the cameras have been repaired at some point.

Deciding Peeta and Finch must have taken the opportunity to look for food, I return to the mouth of the cave to see if I can pick up a trail. Unfortunately it is too rocky to identify anything useful near the cave so I search for nearby trails. I'm in luck. I come across a recently broken branch on a bush next to a game trail. It's the sort of damage Peeta's heavy footsteps could do. I follow the trail and spot a few more indications that I'm on the right path.

Suddenly I hear talking. No … laughing. I peer through the undergrowth and crawl nearer to where the sound is coming from. Then I see them. Finch and Peeta collecting berries. My heart leaps when I see Peeta up an about. He's not fully mobile but at least he can stand and hobble about. I watch for a while, not wishing to intrude on their brief interlude of fun. Each time Peeta totters and looks as though he is about to fall over, Finch is there by his side holding him steady. After a few minutes I realise some of Peeta's antics are a deliberate ploy to bring Finch to his side. If I knew more about these things I'd swear they are flirting.

Only about half of the berries they are collecting reach the outstretched jacket they are using to hold their bounty. The other half are being eaten as they work. Finch looks quite attractive with her jacket removed. She can't be more than a year older than Peeta and I. I wait until I've fought off a silly twinge of jealousy before entering the clearing.

"You'll be at this all day if you keep eating the berries straight away." I say as I enter the clearing.

Peeta turns to greet me but suddenly lets out a cry of agony and clutches his throat. Finch and I rush over to him. He has collapsed to the floor. Neither Finch or I are sure whether he is play acting, but the sound of a cannon removes any doubt. Peeta is dead! I check his body to be sure. It doesn't take me long to identify the cause … the berries in his hand are nightlock … instant death. The berries are very similar to the harmless ones on the nearby bushes.

Finch and I look at each other in horror and shock. One moment we are happy and preparing to confound the Gamemakers, the next Peeta lies dead at our feet. I study the clearing. It is unusual for a nightlock bush to be found in a clearing like this … nightlock normally grows in much damper ground beside running water. There's no stream anywhere near here. Does this mean the Gamemakers used their technology to change a harmless bush into nightlock while Peeta and Finch were gathering berries? If so, why?

Then it dawns on me. They would change the bush and dispose of Peeta or Finch … or both … if they knew of Finch's plan. Were we careless and our plotting has been overheard? Or has Cato betrayed us?

"We must get away from here and take cover," I say as I fold Finch's jacket with the gathered berries inside. "Cato will be looking for us by now."

She doesn't argue even if my request seems at odds with our plan. We have nowhere to hide from the Gamemakers but if Cato is hunting us we need to be somewhere we can avoid him. I wish I had my bow and arrows, but Cato insisted on keeping them. Finch and I have only my knife and her staff against his arsenal of weapons. I just hope I haven't misjudged him and he has betrayed us. I dare not say anything the Gamemakers can overhear in case Cato is still on our side.

We return to our cave, stopping briefly to fill our water flasks. Despite the heavy rain until a few hours ago the river level has dropped lower than I've previously seen it. More tinkering by the Gamemakers. Finch and I sort through the gathered berries and satisfy ourselves there are no nightlock berries among them. These berries could be all the food we will get; barely enough for one day's sustenance. If we succeed in dragging these games out for three or more days then we will be very hungry by then. Not that hunger is a stranger to me. We divide the berries and I place my share in my backpack. Finch stuffs her jacket pockets with her share.

"Now what do we do?" she asks.

"You and I must split up and go our separate ways," I reply, making it sound as though this is another alliance being brought to an end. In fact Finch and I have already agreed separate areas of the arena we will each go to and hide. If Cato is still with us then he will be in a different area. That way we will never stumble across each other and the Gamemakers will be forced to do something to bring us together. Hopefully that won't be until tomorrow, even if the Gamemakers know of our plan. They still have an audience to please and the gamblers won't take kindly to blatant interference by the Gamemakers.

"Take care and good luck, Finch. And keep an eye out for Cato. He can be unpredictable," I say hoping she will understand my concern that Cato isn't trustworthy.

"You too, Katniss. Thank you again for allowing our truce during the storm. I'm sorry about Peeta. He was an exceptional person."

We part company and for the next 24 hours we lead the Gamemakers a merry dance. But in the end they are too powerful and control too much of the environment around us. It takes an army of large soldier ants and the introduction of hungry black bears into the arena to force the three of us into the same vicinity near the Cornucopia and the lake. In reality the heat and the shortage of water everywhere but the lake would make Finch and I enter Cato's territory before much longer.

I approach the lake cautiously. The ants don't seem to have come this way, but there are plenty of hungry bears to contend with. I see Finch staggering into a clearing not far to my right. She's in a bad way. Ants must have attacked her while she slept. I go to her aid but without medication I can't do much more than help her to the lake. There we may at least be able to clean her wounds.

We both stumble into the lake. She shrieks in pain as the water touches her wounds. Cato and half the forest must have heard her scream. I busy myself cleaning her injuries. It's a miracle she made it here and is still conscious.

"Sorry, Katniss. I've let us down. I couldn't stay in my sector any longer. Too many attacks by the Gamemakers' creatures."

"Don't worry about that. You're not the only one who had to flee here."

I duck down to clean her lower legs when I suddenly sense her stiffen and then collapse towards me. It takes me a moment to realise the cause. An arrow is wedged between her shoulder blades. I dive under the water as another arrow misses me by centimetres. I swim under water and surface near the reeds on the shore line where I lie quietly while I try to locate Cato. He comes hobbling out of the trees. If anything his injuries are worse than Finch's were on her arrival. He must have been wrestling a bear to get those sorts of injury. A cannon sounds to mark Finch's death.

"Where are you, Katniss? I must end this before I bleed to death," shouts Cato.

As much as I've come to like Cato, he's sadly mistaken if he thinks I'm sacrificing my life so he can be proclaimed the victor and receive the medical treatment he clearly needs. I slip quietly into the water and swim away keeping parallel to the shore. I'm so busy looking for a safe place to land that I almost miss the sound of the cannon and the victor's fanfare. Cato must have been at death's door when he attacked us. I suddenly realise I'm the victor. It's over!

… Only now I must face the consequences of my actions.


	7. 1:7 Showing far too much flesh

1:7 – Showing far too much flesh.

I'm plucked from the lake and flown from the arena before what has happened fully registers in my mind. No one talks to me as I'm prodded and probed by a medical team while we are still airborne. At some point they inject me with something that knocks me out. I've no idea where I am or how long I've been unconscious when I finally come round. I presume it is some sort of medical facility. Tubes are in my arm and I've several plasters and bandages around my assorted wounds. My damaged ear has a huge pad over it, securely fastened to my head with a bandage.

"Congratulations on your victory, Miss Everdeen. Please lie still so your wounds will heal properly. We must have you looking your best for the victor's presentation tomorrow," says a man in a white coat I presume is a doctor.

If the presentation is tomorrow then I must have been unconscious for three days. I don't know what they've done to me but I'm feeling so much better. I've no idea whether it is due to the rest or the medical attention I've received. The doctor shoos the rest of the medical staff out of the room so he and I are alone.

"Your mentor is waiting to see you. I will let you meet him if you feel well enough for visitors. Before I do though, I need to brief you on your medical condition."

He details my injuries and the treatment they have given me. He finishes by giving me a general assessment of my health. If he's right, I should make a full physical recovery in a matter of weeks. Mentally, the trauma of the arena has much longer term effects. He offers a range of medication should I want it, but advises against taking any of it unless I really feel the need. Too many victors have ended up as drug addicts or alcoholics.

I thank him for his advice and ask him to allow Haymitch to see me. I'm not looking forward to Haymitch's judgement of my actions but I have to face the music sometime. Five minutes later I'm put in a wheelchair and taken to the visitors room.

"Well you turned out to be a real eye-opener. You enter the arena as a blushing maiden and leave as … I quote the media here … 'the hottest little number in decades'. How does it feel to be Panem's latest heartthrob. In case you are interested, you have fifty-six proposals of marriage … a few of them genuine … and a much larger number of offers of a less savoury liaison. We need to work fast on your image."

"You're not mad at me for doing what I did then?" I ask.

"It's not my position to judge. Your family and friends back home will do that. I only wish I hadn't misunderstood your inclinations. I wouldn't have supported the innocent girl image we gave you during training. I just hope Cinna can pull something out of the hat."

"What about Peeta? How do I face his family?"

"Peeta was a nice kid but I can't see how he could have left the arena alive after he took that injury. The Gamemakers would almost certainly have revoked their ruling to allow two victors from the same District. I'm just glad it didn't come down to you and Peeta as the last two. One of you would have been forced to kill the other. If I was allowed to bet, my money would have been on you walking out of there alive."

"Or we die together and deprive the Gamemakers of a victor," I say, realising this may have been an option Finch and I should have considered all along. My life from now on may be comfortable but I know I'll be little more than a prisoner of the Gamemakers and their government overlords. Required to mentor future tributes and attend official and unofficial engagements at their whim. I can't say I'm looking forward to it.

Haymitch tries to cheer me up but I'm too numb to take it all in. After a while he realises he's done all he can and leaves me in peace. I doze for a while before I'm woken by a nurse. She tells me I have another visitor … Cinna.

I'm released from hospital the next morning. All my bandages and tubes are gone. I admire myself in the mirror. I must agree with Cinna's assessment … I've never looked so well. The victor's presentation will start with a live televised interview with Caesar Flickerman in front of a huge studio audience. This will be my first real test of how I will be treated. Although the reaction of my family and friends back home means more to me than that of these strangers, the audience here could influence that reaction.

I wait patiently for Cinna to reveal my costume for tonight's interview. I know he's put a lot work into redefining my image. Even so I'm more than a little shocked at the costume he produces.

"Where's the rest of my costume?" I ask when I put on what he gives me.

"There is no more. The innocent little girl image is out. The confident young woman who isn't afraid of her good looks is in. You can do this Katniss. You managed to walk around the arena in front of the television cameras with next to nothing on, so you can surely wear this without freaking out."

There's far too much flesh showing for my liking and my top reveals more cleavage than I would normally dream of showing. But Cinna is right. I can't pretend nothing happened. I need to brazen this out if I'm to stand any chance of being welcomed back home. Fortunately Caesar Flickerman knows how to make his guests comfortable. Even his questions about what Cato and I were doing behind the upturned table in the Cornucopia are light-hearted and easy to answer without making me blush.

Our plan to thwart the Gamemakers timetable may have failed but the level of interference by the Gamemakers in the outcome has caused questions to be asked in high places. Fortunately there is no suggestion Cato, Finch and I were acting in concert. After all, Finch died by Cato's hand and it was clear I would have been next had Cato not succumbed to his wounds.

I feel relieved when the interview and subsequent formal presentation of the victor's crown are over. Two hours later Haymitch and I are on an overnight train home to District Twelve.

"You did well in the Capitol. Another six proposals of marriage since the interview. The homecoming may be more difficult but you should be able to handle it. After all, it's not as though there's any lasting consequences of your romp with Cato," says Haymitch.

He means it as a joke, but unfortunately it may not be. I turned down the doctor's offer of a potion to terminate any pregnancy that may result from Cato and my union. If fate dictates I am with child then whatever happens I intend to keep my promise to Cato and raise our child myself and tell him or her about Cato.

We have time to finish breakfast before the train arrives in District Twelve. I look out of the window as we draw into the station and immediately know the kind of reception I am about to receive. Wearing the same dress I left here wearing, I step off the train onto the podium especially erected for this event.

Whatever happens now, at least I'm home.

[End of part 1]


	8. 2:1 A charge of treason

Part 2 – The Aftermath

2:1 – A charge of treason.

The euphoria and celebrations of my victory in the 74th Hunger Games are over and life in District Twelve has returned to normal. At least normal for everyone apart from my mother, Prim and I. We've now moved into our own house in the Victors Village on the outskirts of town. In the six weeks since my return I've realised who my friends are, and who are former acquaintances who now regard me as nothing more than a harlot.

My brief but passionate liaison with Cato in the arena has polarised opinion about me. There are those who recognise I was trapped, and by forming an alliance with Cato I was at least trying to save Peeta. Fortunately Peeta's father thinks that way and at least had the courtesy to thank me for my efforts to save Peeta. Peeta's mother is in the group who regard me as a traitor and a whore.

My motives for forming an alliance with Cato were for the right reason, although what happened between us when we were trapped for over a day in close company is probably less forgivable. For some reason our emotions got the better of us and … No! I must stop making excuses. I can't undo what happened and must live with the consequences.

While she is too young to fully understand what I did, Prim has been my strongest supporter. My mother probably disapproves of my actions, but has defended me against those who would like to tar and feather me. I can cope with people shunning me, but I hate relying on the peacekeepers' vigilance to prevent me from being physically attacked.

This morning's mail and an unexpected early morning visit from Haymitch make my problems with the anti-Katniss brigade pale into insignificance. There are three letters. The first is from the doctor in the Capitol who is monitoring my recovery from the injuries I sustained in the arena. He confirms my mother's assessment that I'm pregnant. I'm expecting Cato's child. I knew the risk but I promised Cato that if our union resulted in a baby I would not part with the child. It was a promise made under duress, but it's one I intend to keep nonetheless.

The second letter takes me by surprise. It's a formal document advising me that the District Two Council is making a legal bid to have me declared Cato's widow and therefore my victory, and the monthly gifts of food for the victor's District, belong to District Two. I would laugh if it wasn't so serious. I mention the contents of the letter to Haymitch, who suddenly looks very worried.

"There's no precedence for such a claim, but they could succeed in having distribution of the food packages halted while their case is heard. The legal proceedings could take years. We must inform the mayor and Effie Trinket. They can advise us what to do," says Haymitch.

The third letter sends chills through my bones. It's a summons from the official enquiry into the 74th Hunger Games. The excessive amount of interference by the Gamemakers to force an on-schedule end to the games has prompted an official enquiry. Finch, Cato, and I had secretly agreed to try and force an overrun of the games by working together. While appearing to be trying to track and kill each other we were in fact moving in an agreed pattern to avoid any encounters. I don't know if the Gamemakers knew of this plan, or they were simply impatient to finish the games, but they turned the arena into a jungle full of dangerous predators. In the end the Gamemakers won and we were forced together. Cato, in the throws of dying, killed Finch and tried to kill me. In my darker moments I wonder whether it would have been better if he had succeeded and deprived the Gamemakers of any victor.

Haymitch's news isn't any cheerier. He too has been summoned to attend the enquiry in the Capitol. Apparently it was he who cajoled the Gamemakers into changing the rule that would have allowed Peeta and I to be joint victors. A popular change with the audience at the time but subsequently proved unnecessary and only raised more ire at the level of interference by the Gamemakers. With large amounts of money being bet on the outcome, any interference raises accusations of bribes and corruption.

I barely have time to finish breakfast before Haymitch whisks me off to see the mayor about the claim from District Two. As it turns out we needn't have rushed. The mayor was already aware of the claim and had consulted lawyers both here and in the Capitol. The general consensus is that District Two's claim will fail since Cato and I were clearly never married before his death. But the food packages may well be halted in the interim with no certainty of them being resumed in the future. The mayor suggests we enlist Effie Trinket's help and negotiate with Cato's family. If we can get them to acknowledge I'm not Cato's widow then the District Two Council's case will be undermined. I would prefer to contact Cato's family direct myself, but I'm not allowed to leave District Twelve without a travel permit, and this isn't the sort of negotiation to trust to a telephone call.

I can see I'm going to have a busy few weeks ahead. Haymitch and my appearance at the Hunger Games enquiry is scheduled for next week. There's no problem in getting travel permits to attend that. Hopefully Effie will have been able to contact Cato's parents by then and I can use some of my time in the Capitol to work with Effie.

A week later Haymitch and I board the overnight train for the Capitol. Effie has performed miracles and has actually managed to arrange for me to meet with Cato's father and uncle while I'm in the Capitol. It appears their work allows them to travel to the Capitol from time to time. I'm nervous about both the meeting with Cato's family and attending the official enquiry. Haymitch seems equally concerned. The television reports about the progress of the enquiry suggest that those running it are eager to find a scapegoat for the Gamemakers questionable actions. Someone like Haymitch, or even I, would fit the part very nicely.

We have barely checked into the hotel we are to stay in when a young man three or four years older than me approaches us.

"Good morning Mr. Abernathy, Miss Everdeen. I'm Patrick, your lawyer for the duration of the enquiry. I've been assigned to you both by the judge running the enquiry."

"Lawyer? You are barely old enough to be a lawyer's clerk," says Haymitch.

"Ah! I'm a trainee lawyer actually. I haven't finished my qualifications yet. But I'm keen to help you."

"But why do we need a lawyer? I thought we were here to just answer a few questions," I say.

"The enquiry panel has already ordered the arrest of the head Gamemaker. He and several others are facing charges of corruption. You both could be charged if the panel consider your actions as rebellious or disrespectful to Panem's government. The replays of the televised recordings of the final few days of the games have opened questions about whether the surviving tributes from Districts Two, Five and Twelve were conspiring to work together and were refusing to fight each other. If such a charge proves true, then you, Miss Everdeen, may be stripped of your victor's status and you could even be executed for treason."

Haymitch and I look at each other in disbelief.

"If the charges are that serious, why haven't we been given a qualified lawyer?" fumes Haymitch.

"I'm sorry, I don't know the answer to that. But I promise you I will do my best," replies Patrick.

"I know why," I say to Haymitch when we are alone again. "The judge and the Gamemakers are looking for scapegoats and who better than a couple of expendable district people."

The next morning Patrick escorts Haymitch and I to the building in which the enquiry is being held. I've never been so scared in my life. The arena was dangerous, but there I had a measure of control over what I did. Here I have none.


	9. 2:2 Immoral behaviour

2:2 – Immoral behaviour.

Haymitch is questioned first while I wait in a small room which can only be described as a holding cell. There are bars on the window and a guard posted outside the locked door. I try to make myself comfortable on the wooden bench along one wall.

I don't see Haymitch before I'm finally called a couple of hours later. Patrick collects me from the room an escorts me to the large room where a panel of four men sit behind a raised table. The room is full of clerks and other officials, along with a television crew recording the event. I'm made to stand on a small platform facing the four men. Patrick takes a seat nearby.

Each man on the panel asks me questions, and for the first half hour I have no difficulty answering them. Then the questions start to home in on my capture by Cato and what followed. They even show me segments of the televised recordings and ask me to clarify what was said or was going through my mind at the time. Some of the questions are embarrassing. Cato was right when he said the rain and the upturned table would block a clear view of what we were doing. Unfortunately it means I must now provide a description of what was going on. Despite Patrick's efforts to have some of the more outrageous questions ruled out, I'm made to describe events in detail.

Embarrassing as the questions are I sense they are no nearer to proving Cato, Finch and I were conspiring to rebel against the Gamemakers. To Patrick's credit, he does a good job at making the idea seem ridiculous. The panel then abandons its questions about my liaison with Cato, but not before commenting on my immoral behaviour. No doubt there will be hundreds more watching on television who now think I'm a dirty little slut.

The next set of questions are about Finch, or Foxface as I once named her. These questions are easier to answer and the lack of good quality recordings of our time in the cave means there is no proof of what was said.

I've been answering questions for three hours without a break and am feeling exhausted. But so far I think I've held my own against their constant insinuations and trick questions. Finally we get to the final hour of the games, which I hope means I'm near the end of my ordeal.

"Tell me, Miss Everdeen," begins the elderly man on the left of the panel. "What did the tribute from District Five mean when she said 'Sorry, Katniss. I've let us down. I couldn't stay in my sector any longer'? And can you remember what you replied?"

"Um … I don't recall Finch saying anything like that," I reply, certain we had been very careful about what we said in front of the camera.

"Let me refresh your memory," the man replies and calls for a segment of the recording to be shown. Suddenly I realise to my horror that in our exhausted state Finch had said those words when we met near the lake just before the end of the games. My reply of 'Don't worry about that. You're not the only one who had to flee here' is clearly heard and could be equally damning. "Please tell is what you both meant by those remarks. It sounds very much like you were conspiring with the tribute against the Gamemakers," asks the man. I must think of a cover story fast.

"Um … When Finch and I broke our alliance we agreed to head off in different directions and not fight each other while Cato was still alive. It is true Finch and I had an understanding, but we were plotting against Cato, not the Gamemakers."

The four men begin a barrage of questions aimed at making me admit we were conspiring against the Gamemakers but thanks to the lack of conclusive evidence, and Patrick's efforts in deflecting unproven accusations and innuendo, I'm finally told I may stand down and leave, but to remain in the Capitol for another three days in case the panel has further questions.

Patrick congratulates me on handling the questions so well as we walk back to the hotel. Actually I'm doing all I can to stop myself shaking like a leaf.

"If you need someone to talk to, I can stay and keep you company for a while," Patrick offers.

"Thanks, but Haymitch will be here to look after me."

"Er … I'm afraid he won't be. He was arrested after he was questioned. There are accusations that he had a hand in Peeta Mellark's death."

"What?! That's preposterous! Haymitch was Peeta's mentor. How could he be involved in Peeta's death?"

"I don't know the details, but the televised recordings of his death show the bush from which Peeta was collecting berries was suddenly changed to nightlock. The orders given to the Gamemaker technician who did it can supposedly be traced back to Haymitch. It's all unproven accusations at the moment, but someone interfered with the games when there was no need to. A considerable amount of money was bet on you and Peeta emerging as joint victors. Needless to say those who lost their money are crying for blood."

My emotions are now in overload. I'm glad of Patrick's presence as he takes me to my room and orders food and drink for me. I make him order some for himself as well and we share a companionable meal together. Halfway through the meal I remember to thank him for his efforts today. He promises to be available should I be recalled for further questioning.

It is well into the evening before he starts hinting he must go soon. I quite overlooked he may have a family expecting him … a wife even! As it turns out he is single and lives alone, but his desire to leave is so he can prepare Haymitch's defence when he appears in court tomorrow. I practically throw him out of the room when I realise I've been preventing him from doing that.

Effie telephones early the following morning and says she can arrange a meeting with Cato's father and uncle this afternoon if I like. I've no idea how much notice the enquiry panel will give me if they want to question me again, but I can't sit in my room on the off-chance they may call. I'll leave word of my whereabouts with the hotel reception in case I'm needed.

Effie agrees to accompany me to the meeting since Haymitch is 'indisposed'. She isn't aware he has been arrested and I owe it to Haymitch not to advertise the fact any more than necessary. Fortunately Effie is ready to believe my implication that Haymitch has had too much to drink. The time and place of our meeting is arranged and I'm now left with having to choose what to wear. Cinna has given me a set of six outfits to go with my new image, but I wish Cinna was here to advise me. Discounting the frivolous party dress, and the wholly inappropriate outfit that leaves very little to the imagination, I've a choice of three clean outfits. The one I'm wearing is the closest to a business meeting outfit, but it is can't be laundered in time. I finally choose the trousers and top that Cinna said was for informal meetings in public. I'm gradually getting used to wearing clothes that reveal more flesh than I've shown previously, although wandering around with a bare midriff has taken me longer to accept. Anyway, I may as well wear it while I can. In a few months my midriff will be expanding and making me look like a whale.

Effie calls to collect me and we go to the arranged meeting place. The two men waiting for us are the older version of Cato down to the way they hold their head and the slightly arrogant look in their eye.

"Miss Everdeen … Katniss … a pleasure to meet you," says one of the men, shaking my hand. I presume he is Cato's father but either of the men could be.

"How do you do Mr. Thorwald," I reply, thankful the recordings I've been made to watch during the enquiry reminded me of Cato's family name.

I shake hands with the other Mr. Thorwald. He seems more relaxed than his brother and is definitely the life-and-soul-of-the-party type.

"Good afternoon, Katniss. Please remove your trousers," he says.

"What?!"


	10. 2:3 Marriage to a dead man

2:3 – Marriage to a dead man.

"Now, now, Remus. Don't embarrass your new daughter-in-law," says the more serious man who is obviously Cato's uncle and not, as I thought at first, his father.

"Nonsense, Gaius! Young Katniss here isn't afraid of showing her charms to those who ask. Cato may not have emerged the victor as we hoped, but he did the next best thing for the Thorwald family … With the help of this beautiful young lady here."

"Um … It's the daughter-in-law thing I wanted to discuss with you," I say once I've recovered from my shock and realise I was being teased.

We find somewhere quiet to sit and I broach the subject of my marital status.

"… Yes, I agree there was no formal marriage ceremony," says Remus. "How could there be … but you did agree to marry Cato. Even though he died before a formal ceremony could take place, his offer and your acceptance are still a legally binding contract of marriage. That is, assuming you did consummate your union as we all seem to have witnessed."

"Um … yes, we did consu- … er … Well you may as well know … I'm expecting Cato's child. The pregnancy was confirmed last week. But I don't recall Cato asking me to marry him."

Effie nearly falls off her chair in shock. The two men just smile to each other.

"Then it is fortunate he proposed marriage and you accepted … for both you and your child's sake. An unwed mother is shunned in most parts of Panem, and her child is often treated even worse. You are part of the Thorwald family now and we shall protect and provide for you," says Gaius.

"As for the proposal of marriage, do you recall Cato asking you to wear his amulet, and you agreeing?" says Remus when I still seem bemused. "In District Two a man is given an amulet on reaching manhood. He offers it to the woman he wishes to take as his wife. Cato wasn't allowed to take his into the arena, but I have it with me now if you are willing to honour your promise."

In the arena I was too busy paying attention to what Cato was doing with his hands to bother with the words coming out of his mouth. But having seen the recordings yesterday there is an unmistakable segment where Cato does indeed ask me to wear his amulet followed by a loud 'yes' from me. I'm not certain it was Cato's question I was shouting 'yes' to, but I can't prove otherwise.

I quickly assess my options. Gaius is right about the difficulties of being an unwed mother anywhere in Panem, even for a Hunger Games victor. My reputation in District Twelve is already dirt in many peoples eyes, even before it becomes generally known that I'm pregnant.

"What happens if I accept Cato's amulet? There is no way I can support your District Council's claim that a District Two tribute won the 74th Hunger Games. The victory and the food parcels belong to District Twelve," I reply.

"I am on the District Two Council," replies Gaius. "I'm sure our council and the District Twelve council can reach an agreement of some kind without having to resort to legal proceedings. That is, providing you honour your promise to Cato. I will not have my dead nephew's name sullied by you reneging on your promise."

"Once you agree to wear Cato's amulet your marriage will be retrospectively formalised by the court and the judge will order that you become a resident of District Two. All those in the Thorwald family will make you welcome and help you settle. I'm not certain if you will be allocated a house in the Victors Village in District Two. As you say, you were a District Twelve tribute so that complicates matters," replies Remus.

"What about my sister Prim, and my mother?" I ask.

"They must remain in District Twelve unless they can obtain special dispensation from the authorities to move to District Two. You know as well as I that moving from one district to another is rarely allowed. "

Unfortunately I know he is right. There are very few marriages between couples who come from different districts simply because there are so few opportunities for them to meet. Getting a permit to travel to another district is hard enough … obtaining permission to live to another district is almost impossible. A wife moving district to join her husband is one of the few exceptions.

We agree to meet at the same time tomorrow to give me a chance to consider my position and for Gaius to open negotiations between the District Two and District Twelve councils. When I return to my hotel room I make three telephone calls; to my mother, the District Twelve mayor, and lastly to Patrick.

My mother can offer no useful advice … I suppose I should have expected that. But Prim says I should take the opportunity to get away from District Twelve and not to worry about them. The mayor confirms he has been approached by Gaius on behalf of the District Two council and good progress has already been made towards reaching an amicable agreement … providing I play my part. As for Patrick, he refuses to talk over the telephone but arrives at my room half an hour later.

Patrick's news about Haymitch isn't good. The court appearance today resulted in Haymitch being formally charged with murder and corruption. I can't believe it can be true, but Patrick says the prosecution has evidence that Haymitch took a huge bribe from a gambling syndicate to firstly set up the possibility of Peeta and I being joint victors, and then to arrange for one of us to be killed. A qualified lawyer has now been assigned to defend Haymitch, so neither Patrick nor I can see him.

I tell Patrick about my meeting with Gaius and Remus. He confirms what Gaius and Remus said to me is correct. Cato's offer of his amulet is considered a proposal of marriage in District Two, which can be retrospectively formalised. Patrick is less certain about the judge ordering my change of residency to District Two, and if he did, it is unlikely I would be granted a house in the District Two Victors Village. If it means Prim and my mother can continue to live in the Victors Village in District Twelve, then I don't mind. Without realising it I have come to terms with the prospect of accepting Cato's amulet and becoming his wife … widow.

Before he leaves, Patrick advises me to read up on the customs of District Two, some of which he says are very odd. The business about the amulet being one of the easier ones to understand. He doesn't stay late and I go to bed early, already wondering what it will be like being Katniss Thorwald.

The next morning there is word from the enquiry saying I'm required for further questioning in two days time. I dread what that means, but at least I can meet with Effie, Remus and Gaius today as promised. Later that day I'm standing in front of a Justice of the Peace as he records my marriage to Cato. Cato's metal amulet is now on my left arm. It is quite heavy and will take some time for me to become used to it. Why the people of District Two can't use wedding rings like everyone else is beyond me. The amulet is a three centimetre wide band of steel with two stylish motifs engraved on opposite sides … a bull representing Cato and a recently added mockingjay representing me. I've done some research into District Two customs as Patrick suggested and I know I'm fortunate that the amulet is made of steel rather than the usual brass one. Like Cato before me, I'm not supposed to remove the amulet unless compelled by law, and the brass ones can apparently cause all sorts of skin infections.

There is no wedding celebration since the groom is dead, but Remus and Gaius make every effort to make me feel welcome into their family. With my marriage certificate should be a document that officially transfers my residency from District Twelve to District Two, but there isn't. Cato being dead means there are complications. I accept Gaius's offer to sort out my residency issue. In any case, I can't leave the Capitol until the official enquiry into the 74th Hunger Games has finished with me.

Remus escorts me back to my hotel. As we reach my room he turns to me and says, "Now, my dear daughter-in-law, I must insist that you remove your trousers."


	11. 2:4 Anti-social activities

2:4 – Anti-social activities

I look at Remus in disbelief. Surely he must be jesting with me again, but the look on his face tells me he isn't.

"Why?" I ask. Too late I realise that my reply is exactly the same one I gave Cato when he demanded the same thing of me in the arena. I should have simply said 'no'.

"You are now a member of the Thorwald family," replies Remus, as if that explains everything.

"Only the common workers allow their women to wear trousers," he continues. "Our family has a high standing in our community and we impose certain dress standards on our women. You must change into a skirt or a dress. I presume you have such a thing in your bags."

"Yes, but I'm not certain either of them would meet with your approval, or those of the panel at the enquiry. I normally wear trousers, so I didn't pack many skirts or dresses."

Remus is adamant that I need to change. I'm left with a choice of my frivolous party dress and the one that reveals far too much flesh. Neither of which is suitable attire for my reappearance at the enquiry. While Remus waits in my sitting room I put on my outfits in turn to try and convince him my current clothes are the best option.

Unfortunately I can't sway him and, worse still, he insists my gauzy outfit that I personally think is far too revealing is the one I should wear for now. I comply with his wishes, and as a result I attract more than a few stares when we return to the hotel lobby where I say goodbye to him. I cannot appear before the panel of judges wearing this the day after tomorrow. I need another dress urgently.

The next day Patrick telephones and I invite him to my rooms to discuss my reappearance at the enquiry. Fortunately I had time yesterday evening to buy a new dress appropriate for tomorrow, but it is currently being adjusted to fit me. When Patrick arrives I'm wearing the gauzy outfit Remus preferred. As soon as I see Patrick undress me with his eyes I suddenly feel very self conscious and my emotions become confused. Then I realise I actually like Patrick looking at me dressed like this.

Fortunately for both of us Patrick remembers the seriousness of his visit. He says new evidence has apparently emerged that adds weight to the accusations that Finch, Cato and I were conspiring to delay the end of the games and are therefore guilty of rebellious behaviour. Of course Finch and Cato are dead and beyond the reach of Panem law, but Patrick warns me that I could face a long term in prison if the accusations are proved. There are no rules inside the arena, but the idea of the tributes refusing to kill each other is too dangerous a threat to the Capitol's power over the districts to be ignored. As much as I like Patrick, I'm well aware that he is from the Capitol and ultimately his loyalties may be against my interests. Consequently I don't tell him the accusations are, in fact, true.

Several hours later Patrick has prepared me for the questioning as best he can. He doesn't know what the new evidence is, so can't help me prepare a specific defence. He accepts my invitation to join me for a meal and we spend several further hours in more pleasant conversation.

The next morning Patrick escorts me to the enquiry. I realise today's hearing is going to be entirely different from my previous visit as soon as Patrick hands me over to the officials. Firstly I'm made to change in a bright orange prisoner's dress and my wrists and ankles are put in shackles. I'm then taken into the room where the hearing is being conducted and made to stand on the open platform. During my previous visit the room was crowded. Today there are only the panel of four men, Patrick and myself. Even the court guards leave once my shackles have been locked to a metal ring in the floor of the platform. I can't move more than a metre in any direction. There are no spectators, no court officials documenting the proceedings, no television recording, no security officers. I look to Patrick for help, but he is equally baffled at the turn of events.

"Mrs. Katniss Thorwald; please listen carefully to what I'm about to say and answer yes or no when I ask you," begins the judge leading the enquiry. "This enquiry notes that since your last appearance you have legalised your liaison with the male tribute from District Two. That is fortunate for you since your retrospective marriage means the pending charges of lewd and immoral behaviour can now be dropped. However, there is the more serious charge that you conspired with the female tribute from District Five to delay the end of the 74th Hunger Games. You then recruited your husband into the conspiracy.

"Please don't waste your breath refuting the charge … We have had sound technicians and experts in lip-reading examine the recordings of your conversations in the cave and at the Cornucopia. Such behaviour is tantamount to rebellion against the government of Panem. This enquiry is satisfied that you are guilty of inciting rebellion and in my opinion we should order that you be arrested and tried in the Panem High Court. Rest assured the evidence proves you are guilty, and once a High Court judge sentences you then those shackles you a currently wearing will be a regular feature in your future.

"However, the panel is not unanimous in thinking this is the right course of action. There are those here who believe your arrest and trial would provoke the very rebellion in the districts you sought to trigger with your conspiracy. Your previous appearance before this enquiry has already given you more publicity than you deserve. It is our duty to stop your wicked plan. This enquiry has already succeeded in unearthing corruption among those involved in the Hunger Games. Several people are facing serious charges in the Panem High Court. Adding your name to those facing charges could cause untold damage to the reputation of the Hunger Games.

"You are therefore to be given a choice. You may continue with your evil plan and be arrested and publicly tried for rebellion. We cannot prevent you obtaining the further publicity you presumably seek, but rest assured you will not see the outside of a prison until you are a very old woman. Think yourself lucky that you are too young to be punished by having your tongue removed and made to work as an Avox. You can, however, save yourself by agreeing to our alternative proposal.

"Our proposal is that you sign a confession that you, your late husband, and the female tribute from District Five jointly refused to fight each other knowing such an action might incite a rebellion in the districts. In exchange for your confession, the charges against you will be reduced to a nominal charge of engaging in anti-social activities to which you will plead guilty in court. While we cannot guarantee what penalty a court judge may impose, the most likely sentence will be six months in a youth correctional camp. We shall leave you for ten minutes so you may discuss your options with your lawyer. When we return we shall require a simple yes or no answer from you."

I've heard of these correctional camps and seen the results. Young people caught painting graffiti or petty shoplifting are sent there. They are terrible places where inmates are drugged and beaten into submission. I cannot agree to go to one of those camps in my condition. My unborn baby would never survive the ordeal. At least in a regular prison my baby might be alright. The panel leaves and Patrick hands me a chair on which I can sit while we talk.

"I'm sorry, Katniss, but this situation is outside my experience," says Patrick. "I've no idea what to recommend. I'm not even certain that what they propose is within the panel's powers."

I knew my liaison with Cato would have far reaching consequences, but I never anticipated this. Finch's plan was designed to delay the end of the 74th Hunger Games. Neither she nor I thought we would be inciting a rebellion in the districts. Is the political situation so fragile that the friendship of two girls can trigger widespread unrest. I'm still trying to decide what to do when the panel returns."

"Mrs. Thorwald. You have had time to consider your options and must now decide your fate," says the judge. "Will you sign a confession and plead guilty to the reduced charge of engaging in anti-social activities?"

"No," I reply, trembling in fear.

"That is very disappointing. … Very well. You leave the panel with no option but to …," continues the judge.

I can barely hear what he says before I collapse to the floor.


	12. 2:5 A travesty of justice

2:5 – A travesty of justice.

I wake to find myself lying in a bed. My first realisation is that I've no clothes on and my shackles have been removed. I vaguely remember stumbling when I heard the judge's pronouncement. Patrick must have accompanied me when I was removed from the room and has stayed with me since. It was his cursing the panel's actions that has pulled me out of the oblivion I've been in.

"Katniss! Are you alright?" asks Patrick. "You banged your head when you fell. There's a doctor on his way to examine you. Just lie still until he checks your head."

"Is it true what the judge said?" I ask, not certain I heard the judge correctly.

"Yes. You are free to go home. There are no charges to be laid against you. I think their so called evidence doesn't exist. It was a dirty trick to intimidate you and make you sign a confession. I've no idea why they did what they did, but it is a travesty of justice," fumes Patrick.

"I think I know why," I reply. "They want a scapegoat from the districts to justify the Gamemakers' excessive interference at the end of the games. The evidence against Haymitch is probably just as fictitious. … Where am I by the way?"

"My apartment. It was close by and I thought you would be more comfortable than lying on the wooden bench in the holding cell. They removed your chains and took the prison dress they made you wear. No one seemed to know what happened to the dress you arrived in. I'm sorry. I had to carry you to my apartment wrapped in my jacket. No one would help."

I'd laugh if my head didn't hurt so much. I do as Patrick suggests and lie still. I don't need to wait long before a doctor arrives. Patrick simply tells him I slipped and cracked my head. He doesn't mention it occurred at the Hunger Games enquiry or the circumstances that caused me to fall. The doctor examines me and says I have a slight concussion but no bones are broken. He recommends I stay in bed for the rest of the day and to call him at once should I get any severe headaches.

After the doctor leaves I ask Patrick to help me back to my hotel so I can recuperate there. To my surprise he refuses, saying I must stay here in his apartment until tomorrow so he can look after me.

"Are you kidnapping me, Patrick?" I tease. In truth I quite like the idea of spending some time with him. "Do you make a habit of keeping naked girls in your apartment?"

"Yes, I'm holding you here whether you like it or not, and you're not the first naked girl I've had in my apartment," he boasts. I'm not certain if he's telling the truth or not, but it doesn't matter.

Later, when he's satisfied I'm not suffering any ill effects from my fall, he leaves me for an hour to retrieve a dress for me from my hotel room and tell the hotel reception where I am in case Remus or Gaius come looking for me. I feel strong enough to stand and the dizziness I felt earlier has gone. I look around his small apartment. I notice there is only one bed, albeit a good sized one. If I'm staying tonight then Patrick is either sharing the bed or sleeping on the floor. I need to consider what I shall say when the subject is broached.

The decision about sleeping arrangements turns out to be easy. Patrick takes the initiative when he returns to the meal I've prepared for him and sees me standing in his kitchen without a stitch on. I suppose I could have wrapped a towel around me, but I didn't. We barely finish the meal before we are wrapped in each others arms.

Much later I lie quietly on the bed as Patrick sleeps beside me. The night light Patrick insists we leave on casts funny shadows around the room. It must be about midnight but, unlike sleeping beauty beside me, I'm not tired. As I lie there I come to realise there are several important differences between what occurred between Cato and I in the arena and tonight with Patrick. With Cato we were both inexperienced and we embarked on a journey of discovery together. Patrick is a few years older and clearly more experienced in such matters. He has been my teacher in the art of giving and receiving intimate pleasure.

Whereas Cato wasn't one for long discussions while we were locked in passion, Patrick likes to take an unhurried approach and talk with me between wilder moments. Clearly my treatment at the hands of the Hunger Games enquiry panel disturbs him more than it does me. Perhaps it's because I've grown up knowing the world isn't fair and I don't expect kindness or mercy out of people from the Capitol. I was about to tell Patrick the panel was right in its accusation, just to make him change the subject, when he fell asleep. That's another difference between Cato and Patrick. Cato was a source of boundless energy while Patrick seems to tire quickly.

I've enjoyed this intimacy with Patrick but there isn't the spark of excitement I felt with Cato. I don't know why; it's just something is missing that was present when I was with Cato. I lie there musing about this and that when I hear a faint whirring and clicking sound. I know that sound! I heard it several times in the arena. It's the sound the Gamemakers' cameras made when the camera adjusts its focus. Patrick and I are being spied on!

I lie still wondering what I'm going to do. Why is Patrick being spied on? Is he suspected of being involved with those who have been arrested? I work through the possibilities when I suddenly have a chilling thought. It isn't Patrick who is being spied on; it's me! Patrick is part of the panel's dirty scheme. They couldn't trick me into confessing at the hearing so Patrick has been tasked with seducing me and making me confess before a camera during our intimate moments. That's why he insisted I stay here and why the night light is on. To think I almost gave him the very confession he is after.

What am I to do? Uncovering the camera and crying foul isn't going to gain me anything. Patrick will deny any knowledge and bluster about it being a travesty of justice again. I lie thinking for a while. All our intimacy tonight has been recorded and presumably watched by who knows how many people. Two months ago I would have been mortified at such a realisation. But since my time with Cato at the Cornucopia I've become indifferent to the prospect of others watching me perform the most private of acts. Actually, that isn't true … it does make a difference when I know people are watching. It's an audience I felt was missing tonight, along with the knowledge that the man who is embracing me is actually going to try and destroy me afterwards. It's the sheer danger of the situation that adds the extra zest to my emotions and which changes a pleasant experience into a sensational one.

I soon decide what I'm going to do. It's my golden chance to foil these cruel men. They clearly need a confession of my agreement with Finch and Cato. If they didn't they wouldn't be playing these games. My position as the current Hunger Games victor places me in the public eye, both in the Capitol and in the districts. Arresting me and having to prove my guilt in open court would risk inciting the very rebellion they fear. But with a signed confession, they can imprison me without a public hearing. I'm safe from arrest as long as I don't give them a confession.

I lean over and kiss the sleeping Patrick on his ear.

"Hey! Wake up, Patrick. We haven't finished yet," I purr.

He wakes with a jolt and apologises for dozing off. I don't give him the chance to fall asleep again until the light of the new day brightens his bedroom.


	13. 2:6 Pictures of a topless tribute

2:6 – Pictures of a topless tribute.

It is mid-morning when we awake. Patrick is in a good mood and I suspect it isn't solely due to our all night romp. He believes I have told him my innermost secrets during my ecstasy. Hopefully the camera spying on us has recorded everything I said during our more talkative episodes. Several times I faithfully repeated that my arrangement with Finch in the arena was nothing more than an agreement to help defeat Cato. I know an arrangement of that sort is quite common in the games. Repeating a lie often enough can sometimes make it more believable than the truth. I seem to have convinced Patrick of my innocence.

After lunch Patrick escorts me back to my hotel and says goodbye. He must return to work and is unlikely to see me again before I leave. I give him a kiss to remember me by and go to my room. I find my missing dress and two messages waiting for me. The first letter is official confirmation that the enquiry panel has finished questioning me. The second is a message from Gaius. He has resolved my residency status, although the outcome is not entirely what he and Remus hoped. I am to remain a resident of District Twelve, but have been granted permission to travel to District Two six times a year for the purposes of visiting my parents-in-law and new extended family. Gaius asks if I would join them when they leave for District Two tomorrow so I can make a brief visit to Cato's family before I return home to District Twelve.

I telephone Gaius at the number he gave me and confirm I will be pleased to join them tomorrow. I switch on the television and relax for the rest of the afternoon. A current affairs programme starts. It is covering the official enquiry into the Hunger Games. There's a few shots of me, and a few more of Haymitch being questioned, but most of the coverage is about people from the Capitol I've never heard of or met. I almost stop listening when something the presenter says draws my attention. He says the official enquiry ended two days ago. The day before my last appearance in front of the panel. I realise that the official enquiry may have ended, but a secret one followed. That's why there were no witnesses or officials present at yesterday's session. Did Finch, Cato and my actions come closer to harming the Gamemakers and the government than we realised? Are they desperate to imprison someone from the districts to deflect attention away from the corruption in the Capitol? They have arrested Haymitch, and they clearly want me as well. They must be confident of being able to prove Haymitch's guilt without inciting unrest or they would be still trying to trap him the way they are playing cat and mouse with me.

Suddenly I glad I'm leaving the Capitol tomorrow. I know I'll be no safer at home, but at least I'll be with people I can trust. After last night's frolics I retire to bed early and, despite the threats to my freedom, I sleep soundly.

Next morning I pack my belongings and meet Remus and Gaius at the train station. I'm reduced to wearing my frivolous party dress. The one I was wearing at Patrick's apartment needs washing and I threw my new dress into the waste disposal chute when I noticed part of a seam had been resewn. It wouldn't surprise me if that dress now contained a hidden tracker and microphone. Of course I could wear one of my trousers and tops, but I don't want to rebel against Cato's family dress code just yet.

Remus compliments me on my dress even though he's already seen it and it must seem a bit odd for a first meeting with the family. We board the train for the three hour journey to District Two, during which I learn more about Cato's family. Cato told me he had a brother my age and two sisters, one a year older than Cato and the youngest a year younger than me. What I didn't know is the eldest sister, Adrianna, is a professional photographer. She is trying to build her client base and reputation. At the moment she relies on one-off commissions; weddings, parties and such like. Cato's brother Julius has just finished school and has recently started learning stone-masonry. Remus hopes in time Julius will take over from him in running the family stonemason business. Sophia, Cato's youngest sister is, of course, still at school.

Remus lets slip that although the family is wealthy compared to many district families, he was hoping Cato would win the Hunger Games so as to help the family finances. The ever increasing restrictions imposed on the districts by the Capitol is making it hard for people like Remus to run their businesses profitably. He understands that I don't share his sorrow at Cato's failure to win in the arena, but I sympathise with his financial difficulties.

Gaius sits quietly as Remus and I talk. "Are you going to tell Katniss about the pictures?" he suddenly asks. I look to Remus for an explanation. Clearly Remus wasn't intending to mention whatever Gaius is talking about.

"This year's games are likely to be a financial disaster for the Gamemakers," says Gaius when Remus remains silent. "As you will have heard, ten people involved with this year's games have been arrested on various serious charges. The level of interference by the Gamemakers in the outcome of the games this year is unprecedented. Several betting agencies are already demanding millions from the Gamemakers in compensation for their losses. If the arrested people are found guilty then there will be more demands for compensation. To defray some of their legal costs, the Gamemakers have broken a long standing tradition and they have started selling items about the individual tributes. Among the various new revenue gathering activities is the sale of a set of twenty pictures of you in the arena taken from the television recordings."

I still don't see what is causing Gaius concern. The whole television broadcast of the games is available for free from any local library. Who would want to purchase pictures of me when the whole broadcast is publicly available for nothing. Gaius sees my confusion and rummages in his bag for a moment.

"I purchased a set to let you know what I'm talking about," he says. "I'm sorry if they embarrass you."

I look at the pictures. They are of me alright. Every one of them taken after I lost most of my clothes. Strangely I don't feel embarrassed, just annoyed that I'm a source of money for the Gamemakers.

"Well the quality isn't very good. I can't see them selling many of these," I say.

"It's the best they can get from the video recording. And they must have already sold hundreds of sets. Rumour has it the Gamemakers have had to temporarily stop the sale of these pictures until they can supply enough to meet demand. There were fights at one shop in the Capitol when it became known there we only twenty sets left in stock."

"I don't suppose I get a share of the profits?" I muse, knowing the answer will be 'of course not'.

Gaius puts the pictures away as we approach our stop. We leave the train and board a horse drawn cart waiting for us. The driver is one of Remus's employees and the cart is normally used for transporting stone blocks. The journey takes us out of the town and into a pleasant wooded valley. After a while we approach a village by a lake. It's a very picturesque place. The Thorwald house is near a large workshop which Remus says houses the family business.

I'm escorted into the house where Emma Thorwald and her three surviving offspring wait to greet me. I'm made to feel welcome and shown to a room that will be mine each time I visit. Cato's room. Several photographs of Cato are hung on the wall, some of which must have been taken only days before the reaping. Unlike me, Cato will have known he was the chosen tribute for his District weeks before the official reaping.

A large picture has been taken off one wall. The marks on the wall suggest the picture had been there for some time. Studying the room brings back memories of Cato. Somehow this room tells me more about Cato than he ever told me in person. I wish I had known him better.

"I hope everything is alright for you," says Adrianna. "We felt it better to remove the picture that hung there. It was a photograph I took of Cato and Cassandra a few years ago. My first attempt at serious photography. She and Cato were friends from a very early age. If things had turned out differently in the arena they may have married."

Once again I see Cato in a new light. He never mentioned Cassandra in the arena, but then why would he? But how does Cassandra feel about me, particularly after she probably witnessed what occurred between Cato and I?

"Don't worry about Cassandra," says Adrianna, as though reading my mind. "She's not the jealous sort. Not that she's in a position to complain too much. She has a reputation for sharing her affections with a wide group of boys. Oh … A word of advice … You might want to keep out of Julius's room should he have the cheek to ask you in. He has a crush on you. If you are tempted to marry another Thorwald then you only need to smile in Julius's direction and he's yours."

I laugh and realise Adrianna and I are going to be good friends.


	14. 2:7 A nice pair of

2:7 – A nice pair of …

I am returning to my room after the evening meal when Julius calls to me as I pass his room. His door is wide open and I stand in the doorway. I'm mindful of Adrianna's warning about entering Julius's room, but from where I stand the room seems neat and tidy. Julius has Cato's muscular build but I don't sense any physical danger from Julius. I take the risk of entering his room and immediately see what Adrianna was trying to warn me about. Along one wall of his room are three large posters of me. Enlargements of three of the pictures in the Gamemaker's set, with some of the graininess of the originals removed..

"Do you like them?" asks Julius when he sees me looking at them. "You're very pretty and you have a nice pair of …"

"Julius!" comes a cry from behind me. Adrianna. She must have been behind me on the stairs and saw me enter Julius's room. "I'm sorry, Katniss. When I enlarged these pictures for my perverted brother I didn't mean to offend you. I was testing my new equipment."

"I'm not offended," I reply. "Do you really sit and ogle at these pictures, Julius? Am I the source of your wildest fantasies before you go to sleep?"

"I think he does more than sit and ogle," Adrianna says, joining me in my laughter. Far from being embarrassed I have turned the tables on Julius. It is he who is blushing. The episode gives me an idea which I want to discuss with Adrianna, Remus and Gaius in private.

My visit last for four days and as a parting gift I give Julius a present of three new posters. Pictures of me. Much better quality than the Gamemakers stock thanks to Adrianna's skills and equipment. They are part of a set of fifty artistic photographs Adrianna has taken of me. All quite legal and nothing shameful.

Even Adrianna is surprised at what she's achieved. Perhaps she's found where her real talent lies. I've entrusted the distribution and sale of the photographs to Adrianna, who will split the profits equally with me. No one will want to buy the Gamemakers poor quality pictures while these are available. I can contribute to the family's finances and deprive the Gamemakers of some revenue in one stroke.

Arianna let me borrow some of her skirts and dresses while I've been visiting, but for my return journey I am wearing my own dress. It's the one I first thought was too revealing, but now wear without any embarrassment. My journey means I must change trains in the Capitol and Remus insists one of the family travel with me until I board my train for District Twelve. He believes with the suspicions about my actions in the arena still fresh in certain officials' minds it would be too easy for me to be intercepted at the Capitol train station and made to undergo another secret interrogation.

I assumed it would be either Gaius or Remus who would escort me, so I'm surprised to find it is Julius who is to accompany me. He seems quite pleased at the prospect and, in truth, I'm happy for the opportunity to sort out my relationship with Julius. After his smutty behaviour towards me on the first day of my visit he has been trying hard to get back into my good books. The present of the new posters was my offer of a peace token.

The train from District Two isn't very busy and Julius and I have a compartment to ourselves. We sit facing each other and for a while we talk about growing up in our respective districts. Like Cato, Julius isn't one for long conversations. I'm pleased because I'm not a great conversationalist myself. After a while we lapse into a comfortable silence and we each look out of the window at the passing countryside. My next visit here will probably be during the Victor's Tour. After that there will be other engagements before I'm asked to mentor the District Twelve tributes for the next games. I hope the nonsense about Haymitch's involvement in Peeta's death will have been resolved by then and Haymitch can mentor the male tribute.

While I am looking forward to returning here, I can't say any of my official duties appeal to me. And I suppose the Gamemakers will make sure they get their revenge for my actions against them. They may not be able to prove anything against me legally, but that doesn't mean they don't know. All I can do is take each step as it comes and hope I can withstand whatever they throw at me.

It's a hot day and the air conditioning in the train isn't working properly. Julius has long since removed his jacket to reveal his sleeveless top. I find myself looking at him and thinking how similar he is to Cato. His muscular arms and chest, the slightly arrogant look on his face, and the way he sits, all remind me of Cato. The same feelings I felt when I was close to Cato are starting to stir inside me.

I come back to earth with a bump when the train makes a loud whining sound and slowly glides to a halt.

"Oh no! The train has broken down again," says Julius. "It happens nearly every week. We could be stuck for an hour or so. I'm afraid you may miss your connection. When is the next train to District Twelve?"

"Not until tomorrow. But that's no problem. I can stay in the station hotel overnight. You don't need to wait with me until tomorrow if you need to get back home."

"Pa would crucify me if I don't wait until you are on your train to District Twelve. No, I shall stay in the Capitol until tomorrow. I can sleep on one the station benches. I don't have enough money to afford a hotel room."

I would offer to pay for a room for him but I understand enough of the District Two customs to know it would offend his male pride if I did. Anyway, Julius might be wrong and I might still make my connection.

An hour later we are still stuck in the middle of nowhere. I wish the train crew would spend less time apologising and more time fixing the problem. I've missed my connection as Julius said I would.

I suddenly realise Julius is looking at me in the same way Cato used to look at me. A hungry look. My emotions step up a notch, particularly when I remember what that special look lead to in the arena. Deep inside me I'm carrying the consequences of that look. I shift my position slightly and can't fail to notice the reaction from Julius. My perspiring body is making my dress cling and Julius can't tear his eyes away from me. I nearly laugh when I see the effect on Julius when I undo the top button of my dress. Poor Julius tries to be casual when he puts his jacket over his lap to hide what he doesn't seem to be able to control.

I would never have acted like this a few months ago. But Cato opened a secret door. A door that once opened can never be closed again. The doctor had warned me my experience in the arena would change me in subtle ways. I suppose this is one of them. If so, then for once I'm glad.

It's surprising what messages you can convey without uttering a word. I make a number of alluring movements and Julius is practically panting after a few minutes. Not that he is the only one affected. My playfulness is having an effect on me as well. He keeps giving me the same look Cato used to give me from time to time. When I saw that special look in Cato's eyes I knew what was about to happen, but with Julius I don't. Cato looked and acted, Julius simply looks. It occurs to me that despite all his boasting, Julius is actually very shy.

"Let me help you with your problem," I say, leaning forward and lifting his jacket from his lap.

I've a feeling we are both going to be glad I've missed my connection.

[The end]


End file.
